Our Mission

Chapter 6

- Isabella's POV -

My head is throbbing and my eyes struggle to open. I bring my hands up to rub them but I'm held back. I try again and again, being left to realize what was going on.

What did I get myself into now.

My eyes kept wide despite the brightness in the room. I keep myself calm when I see a table with different types of tools and weapons ahead of me. 

I flinch at the the sudden touch on shoulder, "I'm glad to see you awake and quiet," the man I was dreading to see all night has said.

"I've told you, we will resume with your death, I've made many promises and not once have I broken one," Lorenzo hissed.

He circled the seat I sat on. He eyed me down like a hawk coming for his prey. My throat went dryer than an desert when I notice the man at the club appear behind him.

"You motherfucker," I mouthed to him.

Lorenzo stops his circling and stays in place in front of me. The sleeve of his black dress shirt were cuffed, revealing a portion of his many tattoos and his hands were tucked into his front pockets.

"I will not lie to you, I strongly dislike the way we are meeting tonight," he speaks, "I would also like to say how much it has bothered me on not knowing your name."

I remain quiet. I didn't owe him anything and I wasn't willing to offer anything either. I was the one being drugged and kidnapped.

"I figured you'll respond that way."

He turns his back to me and picks up a blade. His fingers dance over the steel, "I have acknowledged the relationship you maintain with Francisco and I'm well aware that he is the man you work for."

He's using some sort of tactic. He is trying to convince me of something he has convinced himself so I could confess but he's wrong.

"That is not the case," is all I respond with.

He drops the knife and turns to me. He then proceeds to come towards me and wrap my hair around his hand. He pulls hard and I wince at the friction.

"You will not make it out alive so I highly recommend you tell me why he has sent you," his grip becomes more firm and he leans closer, his breath fanning against my lips, "I will hate to give you such a long extruding death for your stubbornness."

"I told you already. I don't work for Francisco nor was I sent from him, estupido."

He hushes, "Darling, English please."

"You were seen with him in my club in an area you used my name to enter," he lets go of my hair aggressively, "I am not known as the owner."

I fucked up.

"My answer remains the same and here's an idea, don't hire shitty guards."

He paces back and forth, his face stern as usual, and his masculine scent wraps around me. I wiggle in my seat uncomfortable, my wrist were itching against the rope.

He stops abruptly, "so you would not mind showing me his label?" He requested.

He had already crouched down so that we are eye level. His warm brown eyes stared deeply into my soul, I could tell he wasn't convinced with my answers.